Graveside
by Justaway Ninja
Summary: She stopped, because someone had been there before her, and there was a modest bunch of flowers lying still by the graveside. She stared and, unbidden, the face of a sullen, young prosecutor swam into her mind.


**A/N:** Because Mia and Edgeworth needed to have this conversation at some point.

 **Disclaimer:** **Ace Attorney belongs to Capcom**

* * *

Mia was so astonished to bump into Miles Edgeworth in People Park that she dropped the bouquet of flowers she had been clutching.

For a split second, prosecutor and former defence attorney simply stared at each other. Edgeworth's eyes were wide with a surprise which quickly melted into silent reserve as his gaze locked with Mia's.

Then, without a word, he stooped and scooped up the fallen bouquet, a stray leaf catching on his dark coat as he did so.

"I believe this is yours, Miss Fey."

The smooth, cool voice, restrained of all emotion, so mild and yet so dangerous… Mia's mind flashed back to _that_ trial, and saw Edgeworth's face from a different time, speaking – no, crying out commands in a tone that was no longer collected, but frightened and broken as he realized what was about to happen, what Terry Fawles was about to _do_ –

She shook herself out of the memory. The young man was looking at her with an inquiring gaze. Shakily, she willed her numb hands to move and clasp the bouquet before her. Cold paper rustled beneath her fingertips.

"Th-Thank you," she managed, wishing her voice didn't tremble like it did. _Come on, Mia, hold it together! He's just a kid. You're the adult here!_

Edgeworth nodded shortly, digging his hands deep into the pockets of his trench coat. He looked as uncomfortable as Mia felt. "It's been some time, Miss Fey," he said, politely.

"Um, yes," said Mia uncertainly. "I'm, er, on a break, actually. From lawyering."

She wasn't sure why she felt the need to offer that information to _him_ of all people, but was surprised when Edgeworth nodded with no hint of surprise in his expression.

"I've heard," he said, gravely, his eyes dark as he, too, presumably lived through the same moments that had haunted Mia's nightmares for months after. "It was not a pleasant experience for anyone that day."

"And especially not for rookies," Mia remarked humourlessly, her fingers tightening around the bouquet so that she could feel the flower stems outlined against the paper. "I'm surprised you can still find it in yourself to continue, Mr. Edgeworth."

It was petty, she knew, but she could not help the bitterness in her voice or the condemnation in her eyes. Their routes had diverged so far since that case – her, wallowing in despair and unemployment, and him – successful, reputable, and seemingly unaffected by it all.

 _Doesn't he have an ounce of humanity in him?_

She looked at him now. Though he had donned a modest dark trench coat over his usual, garish attire, there was still an air of pompous arrogance about him. She thought of all the rumours that haunted his every step. The 'Demon Attorney', the disciple of Von Karma, the unbroken record, and the hushed talks of bribery, false evidence and perjury.

In that moment, she believed every single whisper.

Edgeworth, however, seemed indifferent to her resentment. "The case of Terry Fawles was unfortunate," he stated, his words careful and rehearsed. "However, it was only an acceleration of the inevitable." His eyes were dark with a terrible conviction, and the accusation weighed heavily in the air. "He would have been executed for his crimes had the verdict been handed down anyway."

"He was innocent," interjected Mia hotly, unable to control the passion in her voice. "You _know_ it, Edgeworth. He was just a scapegoat for that _girl_ – Dahlia. He didn't even know –"

"Pure conjecture!" The young man hissed, his expression twisting. "Terry Fawles is dead, Miss Fey, and we cannot possibly ask the dead what they were thinking!"

Perhaps his choice of words was only a coincidence, but Mia winced nevertheless and another petal fell from her bouquet. She stared at its fallen form as though in a reverie, temporarily speechless, whilst Edgeworth pulled at his cravat and looked irritated with his own outburst. An old couple walking past gave them both startled looks, and Mia felt her own face flush awkwardly.

"I was so close…" She murmured, more to herself than him. "If he hadn't…" She swallowed thickly. The words were still too raw for her to utter. "He was a victim, too."

Edgeworth looked at her with ice in his eyes. "We could say that of any murderer," he said, without feeling, "and then where would that leave the true victims? The ones who crave justice? The ones who can only suffer, out of sight, because _people like you_ -"

Mia's head snapped up, her eyes flashing, but it was Edgeworth himself who drew in a shuddering breath to silence himself. He shook his head.

"You are blinded, Miss Fey, by his deceptive story and no doubt you will continue to defend your delusion of his innocence. I will say this only once: he was not a man worthy of your trust." His gaze met hers, and Mia realized, a sick feeling curdling in her stomach, that he believed every word. "Terry Fawles was a killer, and if I had allowed such a man to walk free in society I would never be able to forgive myself."

The young woman chose not to answer to that. She folded her arms and looked out into the park and let his words wash over her.

"You must have been through a lot, Mr. Edgeworth," she finally remarked, and not entirely insincerely either, "to have such little faith."

The young prosecutor narrowed his eyes. "On the contrary, I believe I am a realist," he answered, smoothly. "It is you, Miss Fey, who has too much faith."

Mia huffed, but thought it was pointless to argue. _I guess that's what all pessimists think of other people._ She thought sullenly to herself, realising that they would only continue to disagree. _Now I wonder how I can get out of this conversation…_

She glanced at the bouquet in her hands, and remembered abruptly why she was there. "I have to –" she started.

But Edgeworth was speaking too. "Incidentally," he said, voice once again cool and reserved with only a polite tinge of interest, "I notice you wear a charm around your neck."

The former defence attorney blinked, her hand reaching subconsciously to rub at the Magatama nestled against her collars. "Ah… Yes," she murmured, uncertain as to which direction the conversation will now lead.

The young man's eyes darkened. "You… wouldn't happen to be a member of the Fey clan, do you?"

Now that _was_ surprising and Mia was sure it showed on her face. _How did he_ –? "Well… Y-Yes, I am. I'm surprised you recognized the symbol, since we –"

"– No longer have any credibility as spirit mediums," finished Edgeworth flatly, and the young woman saw that his hands were fisted at his sides. "DL-6, wasn't it?"

That _code_. That awful, awful _code_. She couldn't help the gasp fleeing her lips. "How could you… ?" She could barely phrase the question. "That was classified –" Her mind was tangled in a confused haze of memories. She thought of strange men in uniforms wandering around the village. She remembered the channeling. The whispering. Her mother's wearied face. And then that _note_ , in that horribly empty room where she had once had so much laughter and joy. And that _name_ , she remembered. _Gregory Edgeworth. Edgeworth_.

… Edgeworth.

"The victim was my father," said the young man before her quietly, confirming the sickening feeling in her stomach. His eyes appeared even more striking when he looked at her. "That case ruined my life. My father was the only family I had, and he…" He shook his head, perhaps unable to continue down that line of thought. "Your mother was the one who was supposed to have summoned him," he continued, his tone clouding with venom, "but of course, _she_ turned out to be a _fraud._ And I never found out… the truth. Justice… Justice was never served. And your mother, that fraud, she -!"

He stopped short as Mia's palm connected sharply with his cheek.

The sharp sound seemed to still the very air around them. Edgeworth made no sound as he was struck. He simply held his cheek as his bangs slipped over his eyes, his body trembling minutely.

Mia felt herself shaking too. The flowers in her bouquet quivered with her emotions. "You're talking about _my_ mother," she snapped, "have some _respect_! That case turned our family into a national laughing stock. No one _dared_ to mention the 'Fey' name for years… And my mother… She disappeared soon after, and I've," she swallowed what felt like the beginning of tears, "… I've never seen her again."

Edgeworth straightened slowly, his expression heavy.

"But at least," he murmured lowly, "you have the hope, the _possibility_ , that she is still alive. That she's out there somewhere, and that you might meet her. Be able to… to speak to her, and embrace her, and…" He shook his head. "At least you have hope."

Mia closed her eyes. "At least you _know_." She whispered, softly.

The young man was silent.

Mia fingered the pendant round her neck once more. "I have a sister," she murmured. "A younger one, called Maya. She was only four when it happened. She doesn't remember our mother at all."

"How tragic," said Edgeworth, but his tone was not sarcastic. He was gazing into the far distance of the park, and when his gaze moved back there was a mirthless smile upon his lips. "We should have been two perfect strangers, Miss Fey," he commented, without emotion, "but as it is I can never forgive you."

"I see…" said Mia quietly. "So this is the path you have chosen to pursue your father's killer."

"And you," observed Edgeworth, "have chosen the other to defend your mother's innocence."

"I want justice to be served too."

"Then you have the wrong occupation."

Mia looked at him with surprise that melted into a frown. "Justice is not just punishment, Mr. Edgeworth."

There was no change in the young man's expression, and instead, he pulled up his collars. "So be it," he said, haughtily. "We have chosen our respective paths, and I would like to see who completes their journey first."

"Fine," answered Mia, crossing her own arms. "We shall see, Mr. Edgeworth."

* * *

When they finally parted, Mia found herself oddly reflective. As she clutched her bouquet, she wondered, deeply, about everything the young man had said, and realised, with quite some surprise, that she did not feel as angry as she thought she would. Despite their disagreement, she felt that she saw the Demon Attorney in quite a new light - one that was not recognised by the media and paparazzi that constantly surrounded him.

She realized that she felt only sadness for him.

The heavy atmosphere of People Cemetery seemed only to accentuate her mood. Her footsteps sounded, distant and alone, as she crossed the rows of gravestones – some new, some faded. Some with fresh flowers, others barren with weeds. Loved ones, enemies, friends, family.

For her, it was the grave of a half stranger. Terry Fawles was a disgraced convict, and no family member – if he even had any – had come forward to organize his affairs, least of all the 'Dahlia' he had so loved. Mia clutched her flowers and moved towards his resting place, her mind filled with all the times she had come here to give her respects and apologies for the truth she had never found. No. She found it alright. She just wasn't _quick_ enough…

She stopped now, her thoughts interrupted by a startling sight before her. Not one of murder, or violence, nor was it a haunting note fluttering in a room filled only with wind.

She stopped, because someone had been there before her, and there was a modest bunch of flowers lying still by the graveside. She stared and, unbidden, the face of a sullen, young prosecutor swam into her mind.

Mia found her face lighting in a small smile, and gingerly, she placed her own bouquet down next to his, and paid her usual respects.

But this time, when she turned to leave, there was a new hope shining in her eyes - a hope for a future where justice may still be found.


End file.
